e! Look! We've got five acres of ground, covered by air that we can
breathe!"

His sense of triumph, however, was soon dampened. Yes--he'd been left
unmolested--for one night. But had that been done only to keep him at a
fruitless and sleepless watch? Probably. Another delicate form of
hazing. And it meant nothing for the night to come--or for those to
follow. So he was in the same harrowing position as before, pursued only
by a wild and defenseless drive to get things done. To find some slight
illusion of security by working to build a sham of normal, Earthly life.
To shut out the cold vacuum, and a little of the bluntness of the voidal
stars. To make certain reassuring sounds possible around him.

"Got to patch up the pieces of the house, first, and bolt 'em together,
Rose," he said feverishly. "Kids--maybe you could help by setting out
some of the hydroponic troughs for planting. We gotta break plain
ground, too, as soon as it's thawed enough. We gotta...." His words
raced on with his flying thoughts.

* * * * *

It was a mad day of toil. The hours were pitifully short. They couldn't
be stretched to cover more than a fraction of all the work that Endlich
wanted to get done. But the low gravity reduced the problem of heavy
lifting to almost zero, at least. And he did get the house assembled--so
that Rose and the kids and he could sleep inside its sealed doors.
Sealed, that is, if Neely or somebody didn't use a blaster or an
explosive cap or bullet--in an orgy of perverted humor.... He still had
no answer for that.

Rose and the children toiled almost as hard as he did. Rose even managed
to find a couple of dozen eggs, that--by being carefully packed to
withstand a spaceship's takeoff--had withstood the effects of Neely's
idea of fun. She set up an incubator, and put them inside, to be
hatched.

But, of course, sunset came again--with the same pendent threat as
before. Nerve-twisting. Terrible. And a vigil was all but impossible.
John Endlich was out on his feet--far more than just dog-tired....

"That damned Neely," he groaned, almost too weary even to swallow his
food, in spite of the luxury of a real, pullman-style supper table. "He
doesn't lose sleep. He can pick his time to come here and raise hob!"

Rose's glance was strange--almost guilty. "Tonight I think he might have
to stay home--too," she said.

John Endlich blinked at her.

"All right," she answered, rather defens